


A Year Without

by TheGiantSquid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Second War with Voldemort, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-28
Updated: 2009-01-28
Packaged: 2018-10-26 07:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGiantSquid/pseuds/TheGiantSquid
Summary: Narcissa would do anything to protect her family.





	A Year Without

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Written for [](http://a-belladonna.livejournal.com/profile)[**a_belladonna**](http://a-belladonna.livejournal.com/) for the 2008 [](http://community.livejournal.com/smutty_claus/profile)[**smutty_claus**](http://community.livejournal.com/smutty_claus/) fest. Much love to [](http://attilatehbun.livejournal.com/profile)[**attilatehbun**](http://attilatehbun.livejournal.com/) for betaing this on such short notice.

...  
  
“He leaves in a week,” said Narcissa Malfoy, voice shaking as she held the chipped tea cup in her delicate hands. “He got away from me while we were in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago. He wouldn’t tell me where he had been.” Narcissa took a shuddering breath. “Are you sure you can watch him? Protect him?”   
  
A dull flash of irritation crossed Snape’s features. He set his own tea cup down onto the dusty, worn table, then leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin.   
  
“I have my ways of keeping track of children,” he said after several moments, “especially bothersome ones who find themselves in situations they have no business being in.”   
  
Narcissa set her cup down on the table with a loud clunk. “Draco is not _bothersome_ —”   
  
“But he _is_ in quite a bit of trouble,” said Snape, raising an eyebrow. Narcissa gritted her teeth and turned away. She found herself staring at a large bookcase covered in dust and cobwebs. She was surprised to see an old photograph propped up against a book, but the room was too dark to make out the features of the two figures in the picture.   
  
Snape cleared his throat loudly. Narcissa turned back, sneering, and saw Snape’s eyes flicker briefly to the bookcase. He gave her a long, penetrating look, then sighed. “I will protect Draco,” he said, in a tone Narcissa had never heard from him before. It sounded almost gentle. Reassuring. “As I swore I would.”   
  
They sat in silence the rest of the evening, the photograph ever present on her mind.   
  
**~*~  
  
** The emptiness of the Manor was overwhelming. Narcissa sat close to the fire in the drawing room, working on her needlepoint, her mind somewhere else. She pricked her fingers several times.   
  
Silence.   
  
Her son was at Hogwarts now, away from her watchful eyes. Her husband slept alone, cold and haunted, in Azkaban. She was alone. Utterly alone.   
  
**~*~  
**  
“The Dark Lord needs the manor, Cissy,” said Bellatrix as she idly picked at her blackened nails. “It’s certainly big enough. You have plenty of room.” Then Bella let out a loud, harsh laugh that held no humor and gave Narcissa nasty smile. “Dear Lucius must have been compensating for something, eh?”   
  
Narcissa hexed her sister’s mouth shut. The next Monday, Narcissa met the Dark Lord for the first time and that night she sobbed into her silk pillow, alone in her bed.   
  
And still she heard nothing from her son or Snape.   
  
**~*~  
**  
The constant presence of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord was too much for her to handle any more.   
  
Despite the protests from her sister, Narcissa Apparated into Hogsmeade on a cold November evening, determined to see her son, to see Snape, to do something, anything, to keep from going mad.   
  
Behind her the sounds of laughter drifted out into the street. She turned and saw the bright lights of the Three Broomsticks spilling into the night. Pulling her hood up over her head, concealing as much of her face as she could, Narcissa walked quickly into the pub. Although the volume was loud, there weren’t too many people inside. Several men sat around a table in the middle of the room, singing and laughing, completely oblivious to the evil that resided in Narcissa’s home.   
  
Scanning the room, she saw a table near the back, and after making it across the room without incident, sat with her back to the wall. A few moments later, a buxom woman with dull eyes approached her table.   
  
“What’ll it be, madam?” said the woman. Rosmerta. Narcissa remembered her now.  
  
“What is your wine selection like?”   
  
Rosmerta gave her a blank look. “We have red and white.”   
  
Narcissa bit the inside of her cheek. “Firewhisky, then.”   
  
“Comin’ right up.”   
  
Crossing her arms, Narcissa leaned back in her chair and scanned the room. The men were still singing and laughing; in the opposite corner, several women, dressed in a way that suggested pure sex, sat counting their coins and giggling drunkenly.   
  
_Whores_ , thought Narcissa, curling her lip. One of the women with long, unnaturally red hair had attracted the attention of a hooded man sitting a few tables away from their group. Narcissa couldn’t see his face, but the girl didn’t seem too pleased by that particular prospect.   
  
Just then, Rosmerta delivered Narcissa’s shot of Firewhisky, and with a slip of ten Galleons, was persuaded to leave the rest of the bottle. Narcissa swallowed the shot in one go, mindful not to lose her hood, and with stinging eyes, moved to pour another round. Across from her, the women were leaving, and the potential customer was staring at his table. Snorting, she shook her head and then took another shot.   
  
The Firewhisky burned her throat and sent a shiver of pure heat up her spine. The drink hit her stomach like a rock and Narcissa shuddered.   
  
“You should have eaten something before coming here.”   
  
Narcissa froze and inhaled sharply. Peering up, she found Snape sneering down at her. With a start, she realized he had been the whore’s potential customer. No wonder they had left in a hurry.   
  
As the alcohol began to course through her body, and all the tension in her shoulders melted away, Narcissa suddenly found the situation incredibly funny. With a loud laugh, she poured herself another round and gestured for Snape to sit. He hesitated for only a moment, then complied.   
  
“I was serious,” he said, looking annoyed. “You’re going to wake up with a terrible headache and sick to your stomach if you don’t eat at least something.” Snape twisted around in his seat and gestured at Rosmerta, mouthing _peanuts_.   
  
Feeling audacious, Narcissa grinned and said, “So the redheaded whore wasn’t interested, hmm?”   
  
Snape stilled and Narcissa watched with delight as a dull flush crept up his neck. It was then she realized he wasn’t wearing his usual robes with the high collar. How strange, she thought, dazed. The alcohol was really working now.   
  
After several tense minutes in which Snape sneered nastily at her, he finally said, “That’s none of your concern, Mrs. Malfoy.”   
  
Narcissa shrugged, ignoring both the sting of hearing her husband’s family name and the bowl of nuts Rosmerta set on the table, instead reaching for the now half-empty bottle of Firewhisky. But before she could reach it, Snape hastily pulled it away.   
  
“I think you’ve had enough, Narcissa,” he said, frowning. “Get up. I’ll Apparate you to the Manor.”   
  
Snape tried reaching for her arm, but she quickly snatched it away. “Leave me be, Snape,” she hissed. “I have no desire to return to the Manor, nor to spend any more of this glorious night with you. Go _away_.”   
  
Snape stared into her eyes in that unnerving way of his, then flicked his wand—which Narcissa hadn’t even noticed he had taken out—and sent the bottle of Firewhisky careening back towards the bar area.   
  
Narcissa slapped her palm down onto the table. “That was mine, Snape,” she said, baring her teeth.   
  
For a moment, it looked as if Snape would like to hex her, but then he stood slowly, towering over Narcissa, and muttered, “Get up.”   
  
Narcissa set her jaw. “No.”   
  
“I said get up!” Snape gripped Narcissa’s upper arm and attempted to pull her from the seat, but Narcissa shoved him away and tried to stand. The room spun violently, and a moment later she found herself swaying and falling to the floor.   
  
A loud crack filled the air and a flash of excruciating pain seared through her head. The last thing she remembered was Snape’s horrified face staring down at her.   
  
**~*~  
**  
“…I didn’t know where else to bring her…”   
  
Throbbing pain. Where was she? Her eyes felt heavy…she couldn’t open them…What happened?   
  
“She’ll be fine here, Severus. No one else knows, and Rosmerta can be trusted not to tell Draco…”   
  
“Thank you, Headmaster.”   
  
Exhaustion overwhelmed her. She slept.   
  
**~*~  
**  
The next time she woke, Narcissa’s head was no longer pounding, but she still felt a little dazed. Turning her head cautiously, she saw a man standing across the bedroom, scanning a bookshelf. Where was she? What the hell happened?   
  
Her mind was a blur. She remembered drinking, the Three Broomsticks…Snape and whores.   
  
Snape.   
  
Narcissa’s eyes flickered to the figure. It was most definitely him. Good heavens, was she at his house? Or Hogwarts?   
  
And…was this his bed?   
  
“Oh God,” she groaned. Snape jumped violently and whirled around.   
  
“Narcissa,” he said, surprise in his eyes. “You’re awake.”   
  
“How astute of you,” she mumbled, tongue heavy in her mouth. “Where am I?”   
  
Snape made no effort to come any closer to the bed. Instead, he fumbled with something in his hands before setting it down and striding across the room to poke at the fire in his hearth. “You hit your head last night,” he said, “in Hogsmeade. After downing half a bottle of Firewhisky and then acting like a fool.”   
  
Narcissa stared at him in horror. “I would _never_ behave in such a way,” she said, feeling a heat creep up her neck. “How dare you!”   
  
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Narcissa, you hit your head, you were bleeding, and sensing you didn’t want the incident splashed across the front page of the _Prophet_ , I brought you here and treated you.”   
  
“And where is here, exactly?” she snapped, struggling to sit up. She then realized, to her horror, that she was wearing nothing but a greying nightshirt. “Where are my clothes!” she demanded, clutching the bedsheets to her chest.   
  
Snape sneered at her. “You’re in my chambers at Hogwarts, to answer your first inane question,” he said as he stalked across the room towards her. “And your clothes were soaked with blood. Once I got you here, I summoned some female house-elves to change you, to protect your _modesty_. I assure you, I have no desire to see your underthings.”   
  
Glowering down at her, Narcissa felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She had not acted so rashly in years. Oh, what Lucius would think of her if he were ever to find out…   
  
She knew that she should thank Severus, bless him for his kindness and generosity, but her pride overwhelmed her, and Narcissa could do nothing other than reach out and squeeze his hand. He looked down, startled, then hastily pulled away.   
  
There was a long, awkward silence, the air heavy with unanswered questions. How had Snape managed to get her in his chambers without being seen? And what about that doddering old fool, Dumbledore? How had Snape transported her down here without being seen? Perhaps most importantly, would Snape tell her husband of her horrifying behavior?   
  
With a soft groan, Narcissa covered her eyes. What a fool she was, and at such a time. Her husband was no longer there to watch out for her or Draco. It was up to Narcissa now to guide this family, and she certainly wasn’t going to be able to do that if she continued to act like a spoilt child.   
  
Looking down, she watched her wedding ring glisten in the firelight. What decision would she be forced to make first in order to save her family? She raised her head; Snape was staring at her, eyes dark.   
  
“Will you tell him of my actions?” she whispered.   
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. “Who? Your husband, or the Dark Lord?”   
  
Narcissa clenched her jaw, but did not look away. “You know who.”   
  
He stared her down for several tense moments, before looking away. “I have no desire to display your actions to your husband, nor to the Dark Lord.” Snape scratched at his unshaven chin. “You suffered from a moment of irresponsibility, which I doubt will happen again.”   
  
Narcissa frowned. “You want…nothing in return?” she said. Snape gave her a sharp look.   
  
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Malfoy,” he hissed, “all your secrets are safe with me.” In a whirl of black robes, Snape stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.   
  
In the bed, Narcissa covered her burning face with shaking hands.   
  
**~*~  
**  
Other than aiding her in sneaking out of the school, Snape did not say another word to her that day, nor for several months to follow. That evening Narcissa returned to an empty house. There were no Death Eaters, no Dark Lord in sight. Only dust and shadows.   
  
She cried for a week after Draco sent a terse note saying he would not be returning home for Christmas.   
  
**~*~  
**  
The Death Eaters returned after the New Year, tracking dirt and mud into her immaculate home. For the first time in her life, Narcissa lowered herself to the floor and scrubbed the mess away with her bare hands.   
  
**~*~  
**  
The sun room was full of cobwebs, but Bella didn’t seem to notice or care as she and Narcissa awaited the arrival of their tea. Outside the sun shown down, warm and inviting, as the flowers began to blossom at the beginning of spring. Inside, Bella was excitedly talking about a big plan the Dark Lord was concocting, but Narcissa was only paying half-attention. A house-elf appeared suddenly with the tea.   
  
Bella eyed the house-elf in a familiar fashion, but Narcissa gave her a nasty look. “Don’t,” she snapped. “I’ve only three left.”   
  
She received an ugly smile in return. “You needn’t worry about me, Cissy!” said Bella with a wheezing laugh. “I wouldn’t waste my energy on such a decrepit creature anyway.”   
  
“How nice to know,” said Narcissa with narrowed eyes. Bella merely smirked.   
  
Just then a large owl slammed into one of the large windows surrounding the room. Both Narcissa and Bella yelped, and after her heart slowed to a normal rhythm, Narcissa hurried out of her chair and out the door leading to the orchard, kneeling beside the confused owl. Looking bemused, the owl ruffled its feathers, then stuck out its leg.   
  
It was a roll of parchment, stamped with the Hogwarts seal. Narcissa’s heart dropped into her stomach.   
  
“What is it, Cissy?” said Bella, sounding unusually concerned.   
  
Narcissa covered her mouth, bile rising in her throat as she read the short missive. “It’s Draco,” she croaked.   
  
**~*~  
**  
She was numb.   
  
_Sectumsempra_. She’d not heard that spell in years.   
  
_Across the chest_. Blood everywhere.   
  
_Lucky Severus was there_.   
  
Then numbness eventually gave way to rage.   
  
_Potter.  
  
Says it was an accident.   
  
Potter._   
  
Narcissa gripped her son’s deathly pale hand. His lips were white, his hair caked with blood. Snape and Dumbledore stood away, sensing her anger. The school nurse worked carefully on the large scars criss-crossing Draco’s chest. She closed her eyes, unable to keep from imagining the scene. Draco on the floor, blood, screams, her son, her only child…   
  
She gasped, feeling the blood drain from her head. She needed to stay strong; she wouldn't allow herself to faint. She could sense Dumbledore’s presence behind her and Narcissa struggled not to hex the man.   
  
“Tell me,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “what exactly do you plan to do with the boy who tried to murder my son?”   
  
She knew the answer even before Dumbledore spread his hands, bumbled on about accidents and the boy wonder, and detention. Narcissa closed her eyes, hating the man, hating Potter more than ever.   
  
“Get out,” she said, and after a moment of awkward silence, Dumbledore left the room. The nurse had finished dressing Draco’s wounds, and after glancing at Narcissa, retreated into her office, leaving her and Snape alone.   
  
Narcissa could barely contain herself any longer. Taking a shuddering breath, she said, “You were supposed to be looking after him. Protecting him!”   
  
“I cannot be with him every moment of every day.”   
  
Narcissa stood quickly, chair screeching across the floor, and trained her wand on Severus. She ignored the way her hand was shaking. Snape took a step back and raised his eyebrows.   
  
“He almost _died_ ,” she said with deathly calm. “You almost allowed him to die! And at the hands of _Potter_!” She felt tears welling up in her eyes, but Narcissa refused to let them fall. She would never give Snape the satisfaction of seeing her so weak.   
  
Snape curled his lip, his hand inching towards his wand in the pocket of his robes. “It was because I am constantly looking out for him that I was able to save his life in the first place!” he spat, drawing his wand. “You should be thankful he’s alive at all!”   
  
“ _Thankful_?” Narcissa hissed, brandishing her wand. “Thankful that my son will be scarred the rest of his life? That his chest was ripped open by that awful Potter?”   
  
“Yes,” said Snape angrily, and with a quick flick of his wrist, Narcissa’s wand flew into the air and into Snape’s outstretched hand. “He’s alive, is he not?”   
  
“Potter should be expelled,” Narcissa shouted. “His wand snapped! Once he’s away from this awful school, the Dark Lord can have the bastard and then finally my son can come home to me and forget about this—this horrible task he has to do! Where he can be safe!”   
  
“You are being very foolish, Mrs. Malfoy,” said Snape in a low voice. “You forget where you are.”   
  
“I don’t give a damn,” she spat, feeling brash and careless. They stared at each other, Narcissa seething and Snape always so dangerously calm. How did he do it? How did he manage to hide himself so completely from the world?   
  
Turning her back to him, Narcissa lowered herself into the uncomfortable chair and took hold of her son’s hand, kissing it.   
  
“Leave us,” she whispered. There was a moment of silence, then a soft click as Snape set her wand down onto a table and walked out of the hospital wing. It was only after midnight struck that Narcissa allowed herself to weep.   
  
**~*~  
**  
“Mum, please,” muttered Draco, pushing away the spoon she tried to shove into his mouth. “I can feed myself.”   
  
Narcissa frowned, but allowed Draco to lift the spoon himself. “You need to eat,” she said sternly. “You’re far too thin. You need to regain your strength, and you can only do that if you _eat_.”   
  
Draco grumbled, but eventually acquiesced. He was getting better, she could see that, and soon he could return to Slytherin, safe amongst his friends; for now, though, Narcissa couldn’t bear to leave his side. Draco needed her, for the first time in a long time, and she was unable to resist.   
  
Another dull cheer drifted in through the open windows, and Draco made a face. “Ugh, Gryffindor better be losing.”   
  
Narcissa smiled indulgently, pleased to hear to him complain about school instead of his mission for the Dark Lord. “I’m sure they are, darling. Without Potter, they’re talentless, are they not?”   
  
Draco gave her a weak smile. “They’re talentless with or without Potter. He cheats, you know.”   
  
Narcissa stroked his hair. “I know, darling. I know.”   
  
**~*~  
  
** Night had fallen, the corridors empty and silent. Draco had long ago drifted off to sleep. The happy shouts of victory had concluded hours ago. Narcissa hadn’t the heart to tell Draco that Gryffindor had won.   
  
Now she paced outside a door. She knew what she had to do. “Thank you,” she whispered into the darkness. Two little words. He had saved her son’s life. She needed to tell him. Whether she could…that was another matter.   
  
Her mother had raised her to expect only the best out of everyone and everything. She was a Black, and then a Malfoy. She expected everything to be done a certain way, and anything less deserved contempt. But now she needed to give thanks, to a man hated and distrusted by a great many people, with the great exception of her husband and the Dark Lord.   
  
Narcissa closed her eyes, remembering the scrawny, malnourished boy who had clung to Lucius’s every word back during school. Snape had been so young, then. It was hard, sometimes, to imagine such an imposing, cold man as a child, but she could. She did. She remembered a great many things.   
  
Normally, Narcissa hadn’t made it a habit of befriending anyone below her class and status during school. She was a part of women who knew their place, knew what expectations were expected of them as the future wives of great men. She was the youngest of the three Black daughters, and the most beautiful. Narcissa had known this, even then, and had used it to her advantage a great many times. She had liked to play games, to manipulate those around her, and her quiet demeanor helped her overhear a great many things. It was she who first discovered Andromeda’s hidden relationship with the nasty Mudblood. Andromeda had been unwillingly engaged to Lucius at the time, but Narcissa knew that wouldn’t last very much longer, and she seized the opportunity to become Lucius’s fiancée after his engagement to Andromeda was called off, and Andromeda had run away with the Mudblood.   
  
The Malfoys, while new money, were rich and very powerful, and Narcissa positioned herself into Lucius’s life the first chance she got. He was unable to resist her, and less than a year after he left Hogwarts, they were married.   
  
Of course, being in Lucius’s life meant being in the lives of those he deemed “friends”. One of those friends, who Lucius took special pride in, was a scrawny little half-blood named Severus Snape. Good with potions and hexes, Snape was reviled outside of Slytherin, especially by a group of Gryffindors that consisted of her former cousin, Sirius.   
  
Though bitter and angry, Snape also had a great many curious habits. Narcissa struggled to think back to the first night she ever saw the boy. She was a sixth year, bored by the feasts and the Sorting, longing to get back to Slytherin and relax. She remembered Andromeda sitting a few seats down, waving at a sullen-faced Sirius as he was called to be Sorted. She remembered him becoming the first Black in centuries not to be Sorted into Slytherin.   
  
She remembered the red hair. _Another Weasley_ , she had thought at the time. The girl hadn’t been a Weasley, though.   
  
But she _had_ been Snape’s friend.   
  
Narcissa stared at the door leading into Snape’s chambers. She raised her hand and knocked.   
  
**~*~  
**  
The room was surprisingly warm for the time of year, but Narcissa detested the cold, and found she didn’t mind. Across from her sat Snape, sipping his wine and trying not to look confused at her sudden appearance.   
  
Narcissa took a sip at her own wine and surveyed the room. Books lined the walls, though there were no torture chains to be found, to her amusement. Lucius always told her such lies. She took another sip, glancing at Snape from over the rim of her glass. He crossed his leg, then uncrossed it, then crossed the other.   
  
_He’s nervous_ , she thought. She’d never seen him like that before.   
  
“Do you like redheads, Severus?” she asked, smiling sweetly. Snape’s eyes flashed dangerously and a shiver of anticipation raced down her spine.   
  
“Are you drunk again?” he said with a sneer. _No_ , she thought, _but you are, aren’t you, Severus?_ It wasn’t obvious, but his cheeks were flushed and his movements slow.   
  
“No,” said Narcissa, smiling. “Just curious. There was that whore from that night in November—oh yes, I remember her,” she added at his look of surprise. “And then there was that girl, from school. Do you remember her? She had red hair as well. Curious, don’t you think?”   
  
Snape’s nostrils flared, his knuckles going white as he gripped his wine glass. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Mrs. Malfoy.”   
  
Humming, Narcissa took another sip of wine, then stood to pour herself some more. “No,” she said, “I don’t think I shall. What was her name, Severus? I just can’t seem to recall it.”   
  
“Narcissa…” said Snape, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. “I strongly advise you—”   
  
“Why were you trying for a whore?” asked Narcissa. Behind her was Severus’s door to his bedroom. “Are you that desperate?”   
  
“Enough!” Snape barked, standing swiftly, sloshing wine onto the floor. “You’re being stupid and I’ll not hear anymore of your ridiculous talk! Get out!”   
  
Narcissa let her head fall back and she laughed. The wine was warm as it coursed through her system. She needed to be sure. She needed to know this man.   
  
“No, Severus,” she said, smiling, “I don’t think I shall.” And after a long look, she turned and headed into his bedroom.   
  
A moment later, she could hear Snape’s footsteps pounding against the floor, and then he stood framed in the door way, eyes flashing, cheeks flushed. Narcissa sat on the bed, legs crossed, removing the pins in her hair.   
  
“What are you doing?” spluttered Snape, and Narcissa grinned. He sounded so lost! Bless him.   
  
It was so obvious to her now. What a fool she was. What all of them were.   
  
Setting her expensive hairpins on the side table, she began working on the many buttons of her robes. “I’m undressing,” she said simply, giving Snape an amused smile. “You could help.”   
  
Snape just stood there, frozen, eyes wide. It was almost comical, the way he was looking at her. She saw his throat move, and then he said, “You should leave. You’re not yourself.”   
  
Narcissa tsked, sliding her robes off and draping them on the end of the bed. “Severus,” she said, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, something that always worked on Lucius, “I’m more myself now than I ever was. Now come here.”   
  
“No.”   
  
Gritting her teeth, Narcissa stood and began removing her underclothes. A look of sheer panic crossed Snape’s features.   
  
“Stop this!” he hissed. “What of Lucius, for God’s sake?”   
  
Narcissa removed her slip and now stood before Snape in only her bra and underwear. She didn’t feel particularly sexy, but the way Snape was looking at her sent a shiver down her spine. “Lucius is in Azkaban,” she replied simply, reaching a hand behind her back and deftly unsnapping her bra. Snape made a gargling sound. “He left me alone. Alone to watch the house, to watch our son. Alone with Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. He got caught by six children,” she spat, slipping out of her underwear. “For years I have done nothing but think about Lucius’s needs and wants. Now it’s my turn.”   
  
She was completely nude now. Although in her forties, Narcissa prided herself on her appearance, judging by the look of pure lust on Snape’s face, she still had what it took to bring a man to his knees.   
  
“How about a compromise,” she said as she toyed with a string of pearls around her neck.   
  
“What do you mean?” croaked Snape. He had stepped closer to her, and Narcissa could now see the outline of an erection in his trousers. _Excellent_.   
  
Narcissa smirked and moved closer to where he stood by the empty fireplace. “Just a little agreement amongst old friends,” she murmured. She brushed her bare breasts against the front of his chest, and Snape sucked in a shuddering breath. “You agree not to tell Lucius about my indiscretions this year, nor anything else you may know about me—including my thoughts regarding the Dark Lord—oh yes, I know you’ve been reading my thoughts.” Snape glared at her, and Narcissa laughed softly. “I do know what Legilimency is…” she added.   
  
“And what do I get?” said Snape, sounding more like his old self. Narcissa fingered a button on his robes.   
  
“You get me, for one night,” she said, excitement and nervousness battling inside her. “And I promise not to tell anyone about your feelings for Potter’s mother.”   
  
Snape gripped her wrist suddenly, tightly, and bared his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snarled, but Narcissa wasn’t frightened. She pressed the full length of her body against his, and Snape’s grip loosened. A moan rumbled softly in his chest, and Narcissa knew then that she had him.   
  
She pulled away gently, taking his hand and guiding him towards the bed. Snape resisted for only a moment before he finally gave in and allowed himself to touch her. His hands, rough and callused, roamed her body, paying special attention to her breasts. Without warning, he kissed her, lips hard and eager. Narcissa could tell he was inexperienced, but she found that she didn’t mind. She wanted to take control, to show him how good she was, how good sex could be.   
  
Pulling back, Narcissa motioned for him to remove the rest of his clothes, and as he was doing that, she performed a few discreet spells on her abdomen. It wouldn’t do for her to get pregnant whilst Lucius was in Azkaban. He’d be so confused when he got home.   
  
Snape cleared his throat awkwardly, and when Narcissa turned, she let out a small gasp. She glanced at Snape’s face, where he looked both embarrassed and proud, and Narcissa couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Men. And what a shame, she thought, that such a cock should be wasted on a man such as Severus.   
  
“Bed,” she murmured, still eyeing his cock. “On your back.” Snape complied without complaint, as Narcissa was sure most men would do in similar situations. When she wasn’t staring at his cock, Narcissa took in the rest of his body. He was incredibly thin—she could count all his ribs if she were so inclined—and covered in dark hair that contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin. But he was clean, as long as she didn’t touch the hair on his head, and she would enjoy this immensely.   
  
“Be honest with me, Severus,” she said, tracing a fingernail up the inside of his left leg. “Will you be thinking about her?” She reached out, then, and loosely grasped his cock. Snape hissed and bucked in her hands, but he managed to maintain his control. Excellent.   
  
“Tell me,” she whispered, squeezing. Snape’s mouth fell open, his eyes tightly shut.   
  
“N-No,” he managed, and Narcissa laughed.   
  
“Liar,” she said, letting go and then climbing onto the bed. Snape’s eyes were still clamped shut, his hands clenched tightly by his sides.   
  
She eyed him for a moment, debating whether she should torture him some more, but in the end, Narcissa found that she hadn’t the patience to keep waiting. She was surprised by her own desire for the man who had saved her family’s life on numerous occasions. Straddling his hips, she lowered herself onto his cock. Snape’s eyes flew open, startled, and he stared down his chest to where they were joined.   
  
“You’re slick—wet,” he stuttered, genuinely surprised. Narcissa fought the urge to laugh yet again.   
  
“And you’re a virgin,” she said, amused. Snape growled, then gripped her hips and thrust upwards sharply.   
  
Narcissa gasped sharply, and Snape did it again. “Oh God,” she sighed as she began moving over him. She could feel him everywhere, and it had been so long…Narcissa’s head fell back as they established a rhythm, the sound of grunts and sighs filling the air. She was impressed with Snape’s endurance in spite of herself. Lucius certainly hadn’t lasted very long their first time.   
  
Gritting her teeth, Narcissa pushed her husband from her mind as Snape sped up his movements. His hands moved across her body, cupping her arse and breasts. She wasn’t watching him, though, didn’t know that his own eyes were closed, mouth moving with unspoken words. Her hand traveled down her stomach, past the thatch of wiry blonde hair, and towards her clit. She could feel Snape’s cock moving in and out of her body.   
  
Her fingers circled her clit, stroking, teasing, and pleasure overwhelmed her. She shuddered, lurched, she was so close…Snape sped up his movements, thrusting up faster and faster, his fingers bruising the tender flesh of her hips. At once her orgasm tore through her, a breathless moan escaping her parted lips. Snape continued rolling his hips, sending jolts of pleasure rippling across her body. His breaths were heavy, hips speeding up once again, and as Narcissa watched him, hair falling in her face, his cheeks flushed, eyes clenched shut, she saw something very beautiful about the man below her, a thought that perturbed her, though she wasn’t sure why such a thing should bother her.   
  
Snape would not look at her as he continued moving, his hands holding her tight against his body. He grunted, shook, tensed as he came inside her, body jerking, twitching. Narcissa sighed softly as Snape loosened his grip on her hips, his shoulders relaxing, body melting into his bed. She felt his cock softening inside her, but she didn’t want to let go yet…   
  
Leaning forward, Narcissa stroked Severus’s sweaty brow, but still he would not open his eyes. His lips were blood red from biting down on them during his orgasm, in a struggle not to utter the name he so desperately wished to say.   
  
But he would say it, thought Narcissa. She squeezed around his sensitive cock, and he gasped.   
  
“Say it,” she whispered harshly, placing her hands on his cheeks, digging the nails into the skin. “Say it, shout it, I don’t care. No one else is here, Severus. No one can hear you.”   
  
Snape tried to turn his head, but Narcissa tightened her grip. He was still inside her, and he was getting hard again. Quite impressive for a man his age.   
  
“Say her name,” she hissed, rolling her hips.   
  
Snape’s eyes flew open. He stared at her, and in his eyes Narcissa saw everything. All the hurt, the anger, the pain and anguish; the love, obsessive and undying. She saw the woman he loved, the son he swore to protect, and at the moment, Narcissa Malfoy knew every one of Severus Snape’s secrets.   
  
He moaned softly, turning away, and breathed one word, a word Narcissa never thought could sound so broken, so horrible, so sad…Her heart ached to hear such pain.   
  
“ _Lily_.”   
  
**~*~  
**  
They made love three more times that night, and the next morning, Narcissa said goodbye and went to see her son.   
  
A week later, Albus Dumbledore was murdered by Severus Snape; less than a month after that, her husband was out of Azkaban, and her family was host to the Dark Lord was once again.   
  
As the Dark Lord and his faithful minions schemed, so did Narcissa. Because she knew the truth about Snape, about his loyalties, his true motivations. She knew, as the war grew, that the Dark Lord would fail, that the Death Eaters would be destroyed. She didn’t know when, or how, but she knew that when the moment presented itself, she would do absolutely anything in her power to see that her family was kept safe and alive.   
  
A woman rotated above their dinner table. The Dark Lord was speaking, hissing, a snake slithered along the floor. Her husband fumbled for his wand.   
  
Her eyes slid to Snape’s, where he sat in honor beside the Dark Lord. He watched her.   
  
Trust me, his eyes said.   
  
And Narcissa did. She would do anything, everything, to protect her family. She would scheme and plot; she would simper and cower; she would seduce.   
  
Her family would survive this hellish game. She made sure of that.   
  
And for the first time in a long time, Narcissa felt hope.   
  
Her eyes slid to Snape. She nodded slightly.   
  
They would live.   
  
Fin


End file.
